


Doll

by absinthefae



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absinthefae/pseuds/absinthefae
Summary: You told yourself to be a doll. That way you wouldn't feel anything. No sorrow, no hatred. Just hollowness.





	Doll

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains implied sexual assault and self mutilation so please read at your own risk

Your family was a wealthy one, your home located on a fashionable street in the heart of London. Your clothes were lovely dresses full of frill and ribbon, each of your toys shiny and new. You were a happy child who loved to smile and play, especially with your dearest friend Ciel. Once or twice a week, depending on the weather and any events going on, both of your mothers would meet up for tea and to talk and share a bit of gossip while you and the blue haired boy would scurry off into the building to play hide and seek or house or any game that came up in your minds.  
One night, across town, you saw the glow of flame against the darkness of the sky. You could see the floating embers and ash that danced through the air like ghosts before snuffing out. It wasn’t until morning that you learned that it was the home of your dearest friend that was engulfed in the deadly hellfire. Like others, you had assumed that he succumbed like his parents, either to the flame or to the smoke.

As you had begun to shed the black from your wardrobe, your formal mourning period drawn to a close, you met him. Sir Archie Ringwell. He was older than you, twenty eight compared to your meager age, with golden hair that shone and a smile that made you blush. He seemed like a prince from one of your story books, with a white carriage and manners that would make any spinster swoon. You learned that you would be married to the man after your next birthday, that he would pay off the slowly growing debt that your father accumulated after your mother succumbed to illness. Although the thought scared you a bit your father swore to you that Sir Archie would not lay a hand on you until you were of age, and even then only if you gave him permission.  
You quickly learned, after your father worked himself to an early grave, that he was wrong.

The invitation came to your home suddenly one day, in a crisp cream envelope of heavy parchment. You were sitting in on a couch in your living room, still and quiet as a doll. You wore a pink dress that hugged your developed curves nicely, around each wrist and your neck was a ribbon tied into a pretty bow. “Phantomhive?” You heard your husband question aloud from the next room. You perked up and glanced through the entry way. That was a name you hadn’t heard in years. Archie walked into the room, the heels on his boots clacking against the fine marble floor. He settled himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to him.  
‘Be a doll,’ You thought to yourself. You thought that if you could pretend to be hollow, to be empty, you wouldn’t feel him. ‘Be a doll.’  
“Darling, this came for you.” He held out the opened envelope for you to take. You held it, noting the broken seal on the back, and took out the invitation inside. “I didn’t know you knew the Phantomhive boy. Chap must not know you’re married.” The letter was addressed only to you. Either the sender didn’t know or simply didn’t care.  
“Yes, he must not know.” Your voice was soft and free of any tone. “Are we going to go...dearest?”  
“Of course we are.” He said with a kiss to your temple. “It would be a slight not to. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to have the Queen’s Dog rather fond of me now would it?”  
Queen’s Dog? The words were foreign to you. Since the death of your father looking at the daily news had been, among other things, forbidden. You lived in a small world of your own, not even your maids would say more than courtesies to you. You were positive it was at Archie’s request. If you knew other people, other things, you would get the idea to leave. He couldn’t have that.  
“You look rather happy at that.” He said, words hiding a question. You hadn’t noticed the grin that curled your lips upward.  
“Oh. Yes. Ciel was my friend as a child. I have not seen him in a very long time.” Truth was, you loved him as a child, as a brother and even a bit more than that. Your heart beat against your rib cage as you pondered upon finally facing him again. Obviously he cared about you, yes? If he sought you out to invite you to dinner at his home. The once familiar stirrings felt nice, the hollowness you brought upon yourself seemed to fade slightly. Even if he wouldn’t love you, it would be nice to have him as a friend again.

You sat in the bath, the scent of rose and vanilla circling you. You would be visiting the Phantomhive home that night. The thought made you excited. It felt like it had been months since you last left your home, since you did anything but embroider and look pretty for your husband’s guests. Your maid helped you from the bath tub and pulled the plug to release the sweet water. You placed a robe around your body and settled yourself in a seat by the sun to dry as the maid tugged a brush through your hair.  
The leaves were changing. You loved that about your home, all the colors during the seasons. It was like a vivid explosion before everything succumbed to the bitter bite of winter. A flourish before everything was cold and grey and white. You examined the tree by your window when the realization formed in your mind. “Oh god…” You muttered. It was fall already?! You stood and hurried to the mirror to look at your face once the maid left the room to fetch your evening gown, examining your eyes. Hard as you tried, you couldn’t remember when your last bleed was. You were positive you would have known, your cramps reduced you to staying in your bed for two whole days last time. “Oh god no.” You said quietly, hand pressing against your stomach. “Oh please, no.”

Your eyes were focused on the windows of the carriage but you saw nothing. The other day you wanted nothing more than for this day to come. But now...you could barely look at yourself in the mirror. How could you let Ciel see you like this? On the arm of a man you’ve come to fear and hate. A man who’s baby was growing inside of you.  
Soon enough, the carriage came to a halt and the door was opened. A large gloved hand wrapped around your much smaller one and, with a small tug, you were pulled outside and onto your feet. You glanced up at the manor before you and your breath caught in your throat. It was exactly as you remembered it. From the gardens to the creamy shades of brown and white that adorned the sides.  
For the briefest of moments, you were small again and your parents were alive and all you wanted was to play with Ciel until your legs wouldn’t move anymore and your father had to carry you home.  
Then Archie looped your arm through his, even through your kid gloves you felt the slick material of the ostentatious jacket he wore. Dark plum with vivid plumes along the lapel and a brooch of his family crest. Beside him, you were a vision in white. You looked so small, so delicate. Although your eyes were focused on the grounds of the estate you saw nothing.  
The butler, possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen, greeted you at the doorway and allowed the pair of you inside. With a pleasant smile he took your coats. Although he was a vision, something about him unnerved you. It must be the eyes, you figured. You had never seen anyone with red eyes before.  
Ciel walked into the foyer not long after Sebastian disappeared to put your coats away for safe keeping. Somehow, he looked exactly as you remembered. Short, shorter than yourself for sure, with deep blue locks. The only thing you didn’t recognize was the eyepatch, and his newfound disposition. He was the head of the Phantomhive house now, after all. Although he still appeared a child it was clear he had the confidence and cleverness of a full grown man, and then some.  
A small grin adorned his face as he approached you, bending his head to kiss the back of your hand. “You look lovely.” He said quietly, addressing you alone. It was as though Archie didn’t exist anymore. Until the tall man cleared his throat.  
“Phantomhive, it’s a wonder to finally meet you.” He said with a charming grin, one that made you swoon so many years ago.  
“Yes, well once I learned (y/n) lived in London still I felt obligated to send her an invitation.”  
“She tells me you two were chums when you were children.”  
“Yes, we were quite close.” From the way Ciel looked Archie in the eye it was almost as if he was declaring a challenge. You couldn’t help the soft chuckle in the back of your throat, how your husband was nearly being outdone by the young man.  
The quiet sound, if it was even really a sound at all, caused the two to look at your direction. Ciel’s gaze was nearly cheeky, while Archie’s was filled with fire. The hand around your arm tightened and you let the smile slip from your lips. He wasn’t going to allow you to forget who you belonged to.

The dining room was exactly as you remembered. You still had memories of wandering underneath with your friend in tow during long boring business dinners. Distant, but very fond memories.  
Dinner was served on porcelain, so fine you could see the light bleeding through the eggshell white plate. The smell alone made your mouth water. Although Archie was wealthy, he was tight with his money so meals were often plain, even a bit bland. Wine was poured into glasses and your husband began to attempt to pull Ciel into pleasant conversation, despite the fact that the boy kept his answers short and curt. It was clear that when he invited you to his home, he meant for you alone to arrive.  
As the meat on your plate was cut you could see your reflection in the polished silver. It wouldn’t be long before your cheeks would swell as the dawning of motherhood came upon you. Your dresses would grow tight and by the time the flowers bloomed again you would have a child.  
The light from the candles hit the metal tantalizingly and juice puddled from the roast before you. It gave you the stirrings of an idea.

When dessert was finished and the dishes were taken away, you excused yourself to the powder room. Sebastian directed you and you bowed your head in thanks before disappearing inside. Hidden in your hands was the napkin that rested on your lap during dinner, nestled inside was the knife. It was dirty and greasy but to be honest that was the last thing you cared about at the moment. You gripped the handle tightly, taking a deep breath before driving the blade into your stomach. Over and over, as many times as you could before the knife fell from your trembling and blood soaked fingers. Between gritted teeth you muttered, “Out...GET OUT!”

The silence was palpable as the two men sat in the dining room, waiting for your return. Sebastian stood in the kitchen, dishes washed and in the process of being polished to perfection all over again. Once more, he counted the silverware, coming up one short. He began to ponder as to where it could be when the scent of blood hit his nose. Somewhere closeby, and quite a bit of it too.  
Your desperate cries echoed down the hallway and Ciel glanced toward the door when he heard the scant remnants of the sound. He didn’t have to say a word, he knew that Sebastian was already on his way to you. Hell, he was probably there already.

The powder room, once bedecked in nothing but light woods and pastel, seemed to be covered in the vivid red that seeped from your body. You lay in one of the many puddles, your breath shaky and uneven. You pondered to yourself if you did well. If Archie’s baby was dead, even if you couldn’t succeed in cutting it out.  
Oh...you even got red on the ceiling. Or at least you thought you must have when you saw the vivid eyes of the butler, who seemed to have appeared in the room.  
Sebastian clicked his tongue at the mess you made. Nevertheless, he knew he could get it clean before anyone was the wiser. Really, a doctor would have been the most helpful in this situation. At the very least, he could patch you up enough that you wouldn’t die. Not right away, anyway. Although it was faint he could hear your heart still beating, weak as it was. And another one as well.  
Curious, he laid is palm down upon your wounds and focused. In a moment, it clicked in his mind. He understood what you were trying to do, and tragically you aimed too high.

Sebastian had announced that you had suffered from an incident to the stoic pair, both of which stood up and pushed away from the table.  
“Where is she? I demand you let me see my wife at once.” Archie growled to the butler. He had half a mind to march away and search for her himself. But the Phantomhive estate was quite large and he’d never find his way there, let alone back.  
“By all means.” Sebastian said with a smile as he led your indignant husband into the hall. Over his shoulder, he sent his young master a look that implored him to follow along.  
You lay in bed, in a nightgown borrowed from Meyrin, with the blanket pulled to your shoulders. Your face was red as your body surged with a fever.  
Archie walked inside, leaving the others in the hall, and implored for you to get up. You could get all the rest you needed at home. He’d even let you stay in bed all day if you wanted.  
Sebastian bent down to murmur into Ciel’s ear just how he discovered you, and what exactly it was that he found.  
His small gloved hand tightened on the handle of his cane as he listened, tightening his jaw.  
“Sebastian,” He started after a moment, “I command you to destroy him. I want him more than dead, I don’t want there to be any part of him left.” He snatched the eyepatch off of his face with a practiced ease and looked up, the pentagram glowing in the scant darkness.  
The simple smile grew into a malicious grin as the demon raised a hand to his chest. “Yes, my lord.”

It took you a moment to remember where you were. The room you were in was bright, sun bleeding in from the windows. You tried to sit up to look around but cringed as your waist began to move. You let out a small groan as you settled back against the pillows, prodding at your bandages with a tentative hand.  
“Careful.” Ciel said as he caught your hand so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt yourself even worse. You looked up at him, still in his clothes from the evening before.  
“Ciel…” You said softly as you looked up at him. You couldn’t even begin to gather up the words to say.  
“You’re safe now.” He said, still holding onto your hand. You felt the metal of the ring on his thumb. “Nothing’s going to hurt you anymore.” He said with a small, but genuine, smile. He swore to himself that as long as his soul still belonged to him, and even after that, he would keep you safe.

“My lady...my lady wake up.” Your arm was nudged by one of your maids, pulling you from your slumber. Everyone who worked in your home was a woman, from the chef to the groundskeeper. In the beginning, it was to make you feel safer. Now, you were so attached to everyone you couldn’t bare to see them go.   
“What is it?” You asked as you sat up, rubbing your eyes. That’s right. You had come out to one of the many reclined benches in your garden to read and fell asleep in the early autumn sun. It was so warm you couldn’t help yourself.  
“Lord Phantomhive has arrived and is in the foyer waiting for you.”   
Slipping a length of silk between the pages of your book, you swung your legs off of the bench and stood. You grabbed your hat from the ground and pulled it onto your head. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, now cut much shorter. You clasped your hand down on the top to keep the woven straw from blowing away. “Bring him out here, please. I don’t think I’m ready to go inside yet.”  
“Right away, Miss.” She said with a curtsey before turning around to scurry back to the house.  
There was no one to tell you what to do anymore. No one to tell you what to wear or where to go. And you liked it that way.


End file.
